I Do
by Zchocolatebunniesrulezworld
Summary: Their wedding was all Light hoped it would be: dancing, kissing, and love . . . and, expectedly, there were several unexpected turns involving swearing orphans and Sachiko sharing his baby photos with Watari, but of course he loved every minute of it.


**This idea was born from, gah, I can't remember the fic! It probably included a marriage proposal because in a review I mentioned that I'd like to see L and Light's wedding...but the lurvely author didn't write it T_T  
So I tried my best! It was SO EXTRAORDINARILY FUN to write! I suggest doing it, too! (but tell me so I can read it ^___^)**

**Warnings: L and Light are getting _married_. Goodness, aren't yaoi, fluff, and AU _implied_? (The Kira case is still going on; we're in the handcuff-arc)**

**Laa-dee-dee...can't do a witty disclaimer...if I owned Death Note, this would've happened in the manga. Dur.**

**--**

A wedding is an event of transcendent beauty. The union of two individuals so deeply in love that they are willing to become one for the rest of their lives has been a human tradition for untold years.

This particular wedding is one between two men.

Okay, fine. The previously locked-tight minds of society are starting to crack open; a thin slant of light is shining through. People are no longer as completely despised for feeling that beautiful emotion called Love as they once were.

These two particular men are both wearing dresses.

All . . . right, then. There's probably an interesting story behind that.

_(As a matter of fact, there is, and it can be summarized in two words: Amane Misa.)_

These dress-wearing men are also connected by a chain--no, not the spiritual chain of love or anything along those lines, but an actual physical _chain_ linking their hands.

Well. Okay.

But really, their outward appearances hardly matter. The love shining through every cross-dressed pore in their bodies is our focus.

Though we can hardly gloss over the oddly contrasting nature of L and Light's--for surely the two men are these; who else?--wedding guests.

On one side of the pew, one can see your typical conservative suit-clad/cocktail-dress-wearing men and women. Yagami Light's male relatives stared stiffly ahead while his various aunts and female cousins dabbed at their tear-filled eyes with flowered handkerchiefs. All in all, a generically average, if slightly dull, Japanese family.

One would barely notice those previously mentioned, however, because L--whose veil, obviously, hid his face from view--had invited 50 of quite possibly the oddest children in the world. Their ages, nationalities, and mannerisms were all as varied as Soichiro and Misa-Misa's fashion sense, but they all had one thing in common: only their eyes were visible in their faces.

Each child wore an odd pink mask, presumably to be protected against that mass-murderer everyone's been talking about. But--wait--why would these children need to fear Kira? Doesn't Kira only kill 'bad people'; isn't that why all those weaklings adore him?

No?

How could he have killed 'good people', too? His original idea was flawed and now we hear that he's not upholding it? Senseless, as most mass-murders are.

Anyway, a story for another time. Back to the wedding.

The aforementioned children were quite eccentric not only because of their appearances. Each had the weirdest set of mannerisms ever seen by a rational adult. Or irrational one. Or, for that matter, a criminally insane one, too.

The three boys up front were, hands-down, the most abnormal. One, clad in white pyjamas even for this event, wasn't even sitting in the chairs, favoring instead the richly carpeted floor. He also had an array of finger puppets arranged in front of him, each resembling some other child save two which depicted the happy couple side by side.

To the left of this bizarre child sat a redhead wearing a quite unconventional striped suit. One couldn't help but wonder how he could see the videogame his thumbs were furiously punching at through the dark orange-tinted goggles over his eyes, but he seemed to be doing just fine judging by his whispered _Yes!_'s and occasional victory dances.

His apparent friend, who, despite the suit he wore really appeared rather feminine (must be the hair, the long, lush blond hair, and full red lips visible through the mouth hole of his mask didn't exactly help) was munching on a chocolate bar and gazing raptly at L.

He seemed to be the only child actually paying attention, though. A little girl continuously hummed a single note, eyes closed. In front of her sat a teenager tapping his foot in a complicated beat. Children all over had atypical habits: pulling off cherry stems and tying them into knots with their mouth, keeping their eyes glued to a book, shining a flashlight into others' faces, braiding their hair (and once all of it had been styled, the hair of all the nearby children), blinking again and again; the list of singular habits went on and on...

One girl appeared to be drawing a picture of groom and groom.

Speaking of, L and Light are quite a sight. Misa designed their attire: Light's honey-brown dress which poofed out awkwardly and clung in _all_ the _wrong_ places . . . he reflected that L, with his white gown darkening to a navy blue as it progressed down his slender form (mimicking his normal wear), looked much more comfortable in the attire--which clung in all the _right_ places, as Light's body reminded him rather insistently.

Light felt as if he and L were the only two people in the world and as he proclaimed "I do" and heard his lover whisper likewise, such an enormous feeling of joy encompassed him Light could barely think.

Which was saying something.

And when they kissed . . .

He felt so _happy_ L had decided to risk getting involved with his top Kira suspect, and be willing to _marry_ him, despite the heartbreak L predicted this could entail.

Well, neither of them had really _decided_ to fall in love or _chosen_ to become lovers.

Their minds were just so . . . aligned. L always knew what Light was thinking and how he felt, which was such a _relief_ after eighteen years of being surrounded by superficial idiots. Light didn't have to act around L; it felt so wonderful to be _understood, finally_. He knew, too, that he was the only other human being _L_ had ever met on his own level as well.

Obviously they'd gravitated closer together, and closer . . . it was just a natural feeling of wanting to express how their minds had been linked so inextricably that made L rest his hand on Light's shoulder. Or likewise when Light would grab his companion's hand and pull him closer in excitement at a new lead. Natural.

So when had that developed into L's arm wrapped around Light's waist? When had Light started to respond by tilting his head onto L's shoulder and combing his fingers through the man's hair? When had they started being in contact physically as often as mentally?

It had developed so gradually that the task force members barely noticed one evening, when Light, reclining on the couch with his head in L's lap, fell asleep.

_(L had stretched out his legs to accommodate his friend--they really should have known then_.)

This in itself was no surprise. Light still was quite young after all, and after several sleepless nights the older officers saw nothing extraordinary in succumbing to his fatigue.

When Light rolled over, sleepily tangled his arms around L's waist, and buried his head happily into the unsurprised detective's lap, Soichiro's face took on a rather purplish hue but he said nothing.

When L tilted Light's head up and leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on his lips, even Matsuda could tell Light by then wasn't actually asleep when he responded rather enthusiastically. They pulled apart and performed the usual confused routine of blinking, smiling, and blushing before Light sat up and really fell asleep this time, leaning back on the couch so L could continue his work (though their hands stayed clasped, as at this point they never really were _not_ touching each other).

Light later heard that the task force members had stared at the two of them mutely for two full minutes. Mogi had eventually nodded and went back to work, Matsuda's grin took up most of his face, Aizawa murmured something about getting a room, and Soichiro--face now a lovely shade of puce--had ceased attempting to splutter out a single word and decided to just drop his head onto a keyboard, typing out a continuous stream of "hgyhujhjyuu-uuuuhg"**.

Well, the ball had started rolling then. It continued, confusedly but not awkwardly and never ceasing, to this day, not even a year later, and now they were wrapped around each other in a slow waltz.

It had taken some convincing, getting L to move into a mass of couples on the dance floor, but once they began the music Light's husband showed surprisingly graceful dancing ability.

This was L, however, so after the first song's final note dissipated through the room, they retired together off to the side.

"That would be Mello," L murmured, one hand clasped with Light's own and the other indicating the chocolate-eating blond Light remembered. He was in the middle of the dance floor, waving frantically at someone Light couldn't see.

"And Matt," L continued as a boy emerged from behind Misa dancing with Mogi--the goggle-boy who'd sat next to Mello at the service. Both looked about 13--slightly younger when they started an apparent dance-off. Matt flapped his arms in the Chicken Dance (accidentally elbowing Light's grandmother, who glared and stalked off) while Mello slid around in a rather accurate imitation of Michael Jackson.

"They are second and third in line for my position."

_Those_two? "L? They're not exactly, umm . . . "

"Qualified? You have no idea, Light. In fact, they are quite intelligent. At the tender age of five, Mello managed to break into the kitchen and-- "

"Hey, what are you guys doing over here? You should be partying!" Sayu butted in with her characteristic charm and grace. Before either man knew it, they were surrounded by the task force members, Misa, and several of Sayu's friends.

Light put an arm around L's shoulder, knowing how uncomfortable he probably felt in this situation. Dispelling Sayu, Misa, and most importantly Matsuda when gossip lingered in the air, however, was nigh on impossible so Light decided to chat and draw attention away from his antisocial husband whom he loved so, so much.

"So?" Matsuda demanded.

"So . . . what, Matsuda?" Light smiled. The grown man sounded like a teenaged girl.

"Dish! What's with the dresses, of course!"

"Haha, that was me, Matsu." Misa had spent hours shopping for her outlandish wedding attire, in her typical gothic lolita style with dozens of crosses hanging from every available space.

(Light had no belief in any sort of god himself and was therefore quite surprised to hear Watari had raised L as Christian. The detective didn't really _believe_, not like Misa did for instance, but in homage to his grandfatherly provider who'd saved him from the streets, they held a Christian wedding.)

"Yeah, Matsuda," Light continued. "When we announced our engagement to her she squealed louder than you did and asked which of us would wear the dress. We had no idea what she meant and Misa started spouting out jargon about our . . . what was it?" He asked, turning to Misa. "Yahwie?"

"_Yes_, Light, you and L are a _yaoi couple_. I still can't believe you haven't heard of it! Anyway, Matsu," she continued, "I tried to find out who was the uke, you know? To see who'd wear the dress for today?"

"Of course I know!" Matsuda's voice dropped to a girlish whisper. _"L's seme, isn't he?"_

Wait--_Matsuda _knew about this, too? Light resolved to google "yaoi" at the next opportunity (a decision that would cause quite painful mental scarring but would considerably liven up his sex life for a week when he would accidentally click on _Images _right as L would turn to see what his husband was doing online).

But none of that--yet.

"Yeah, Matsu, here's the thing! _They take turns!_" Both collapsed in a hysterical fit of giggles.

"So--I--had--to--get--them both--dresses!" Misa finished, panting, only supported by Sayu's arm around her waist. She had had a sip of alcohol and, with her remarkably low tolerance, well.

This..._interesting_ explanation was the reason for the aforementioned floor-length frilly caramel dress on Light's body.

Neither had particularly liked (read: both had begged on hands and knees to prevent) wearing what they did, but Misa-Misa on a mission can be likened to an unstoppable hurricane at best.

In any case, Light was just happy Misa hadn't killed his boyfriend when they'd announced their relationship to her. She _was_, after all, inexplicably in love with him. Luckily she'd only screamed and fell to the ground in a faint. Five hours later, when she woke up, she must have hit her head rather hard because . . .

_He shuddered at the memory of the extremely long, pitched-only-so-dogs-could hear fangirlish squeal of delight . . . _

The conversation continued without them as, even in the midst of wedding gifts and congratulations, L and Light seemed wrapped up in their own tiny microcosm of heaven.

None of the children approached the pair, though Light caught several faces turned toward him multiple times and felt rather certain the masks didn't conceal a welcoming smile. Just a guess.

L had disclosed Wammy's House to him the night before, as Light held a burning curiosity as to the nature of L's wedding guests. Genius children were collected by Watari and his associates throughout the world and trained, vigorously, to become L's successors.

It wasn't easy. Suicide and insanity claimed the lives of his first two attempts. Light could only see the shallowest vestiges of grief on the surface of his husband, who had long since learned how to conceal their true effects behind a mile-thick barrier. He wished he could help--but such is the fate of all genii.

Perhaps it would be better to wallow in inferiority, to be content in one's own unknowing stupidity. If everyone was like Misa or Matsuda, or the nameless Kira supporters on the streets . . . wouldn't the world be a better, happier place?

_Stop thinking,_ he told himself. This train of thought was too dangerous, too similar to that of Kira's. Light _was not Kira. Had not ever been Kira._

Despite what L, the greatest detective in the known history of the world, seemed to think.

The afternoon wore on in a tide of dancing, laughing, and socializing between those antisocial. Before Light knew it he was sitting beside a crouching L at one of a series of ornate round tables in the dining hall.

Their table, laden with sweets of every type just for L, was filled with children Light didn't know. He recognized Mello and Matt nearby L, only the white-haired boy between them and their idol. Ten other orphans sat at the table, each unforgettable in their mannerisms (the artist, joined by a writer who appeared to be her friend, a boy shuffling a deck of cards, and his friend drumming the table with the cutlery, just to give an idea).

Not a crumb was to be seen on their table that wasn't part of a dessert (but this wasn't _even_ the dessert--that spot was reserved for a seven-tiered cake with a five-foot diameter; the grandest pastry Light had ever seen).

Watari had outdone himself.

The children certainly expressed their appreciation, especially Mello who piled his plate with over half of the chocolate-themed sweets at the table.

Even his assortment couldn't rival L's, however.

Light's husband had three plates set in front of him, each blanketed in a variety of slices of cake, strawberries and bananas, croissants, cinnamon buns, bowls of ice cream, muffins, pie slices, and just about every other sweet one could think of.

Light felt sick just _looking_ at all those calories, carbohydrates, sugar, and fat coated in chemicals being devoured by his abnormally thin love.

Light wasn't that hungry, anyway.

And he had to watch his figure.

"Light," L had dropped the _-kun _on his name months ago.

"Yes, Ryuzaki?" Of course he wouldn't address him as L _here_. . . with all the "potential assassins" in the vicinity. Light inwardly rolled his eyes. His family was the _last_ to do _anything_ out of line, let alone kill the man keeping them safe through his work.

"Open your mouth."

"Wha--_mmph!_" a heaping spoonful of ice cream forced its way past Light's lips via L's hand, followed by an equally large forkful of cake.

"Chew," L commanded, placing a plump strawberry in his own mouth.

"_Ryuzaki_," Light started once he swallowed the overtly-sweet food, "you _know_ I don't like sweets."

He waited for L to swallow the fruit and respond, but instead his husband leaned forward and pressed his crumb-coated lips to Light's own. The strawberry was transferred from mouth to mouth in the process, swallowed, and soon forgotten about as the kiss deepened.

L pulled back to place another slice of cake on his tongue before proceeding to repeat the process.

Their mouths locked tighter as Light drew closer to his husband, tangling hands in coal-black locks and feeling arms delicately wrapping around his shoulders . . .

_Crash_.

The newlyweds pulled apart, startled. Mello had jumped up and overturned the table, smearing expensive pastries all over the plush white carpet. In the ensuing chaos, his mask slipped off--not that he cared--revealing the most ferocious scowl Light had ever beheld on an adolescent's face (which was saying quite a lot, as anyone who has left their house will know).

_"L!"_ he screamed, ignoring all discretion surrounding the detective's identity. He was nearly _inviting_ Kira to kill them both. "How _dare_ you marry _him_? How could you love such a--a--horny brainless teenager? And a _Kira suspect_, no less?!"

This last elicited gasps from half the onlookers and a swoon from Sachiko, who fell into her husband's arms.

Mello continued unabashed. "He probably _is_ Kira! Controlling you before you die, maybe?! The L I know, the L I'm _going to be_ isn't this stupid. How can you risk so much for such a meaningless brat? He's not--not good enough for _L_, can't you see? Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He slammed his hand down into a chocolate cake for emphasis.

Other children murmured agreement and added their own opinions of Light's unworthy character, the accusations growing dirtier and dirtier until a six-year-old accused him of being a "grubby whore!" before bursting into tears.

This of course set off all the young ones as well, and all around the room, older orphans repeated Mello's performance with the overturning tables and general massacre of Light's character.

Light was shocked, stupefied, amazed at how vehement the orphans' reactions were. Was L this important to them? Who exactly _was_ the man he'd just married?

L leaned over to murmur hurriedly in his husband's ear, knowing the train of thought he took instinctively. "These children view me as a combination of all the family members they have lost or never possessed. I am an older brother, an indifferent sister, a business-oriented father, a caring mother, a wealthy grandfather. My children can barely stand sharing me with each other, let alone the rest of the world, not to mention a _spouse_, Light. It is understandable--they fear losing me. Genii they are, but still children, Light. Forgive them."

"Of course. None of it is true." Light whispered as L stood up to address his successors.

Instead of haranguing them as Light had expected, L slouched around the tables toward each of "his" children. Rubbing a back here, squeezing a shoulder or murmuring comfort there, he made his way around the chaos leaving serenity in his wake. The crying girl received a kiss on her cheek, an angry older boy's hair was ruffled gently.

This was a side of L Light hadn't dreamed could exist. He held all these children in a thrall as tight as he held Light himself.

Matt, who had actually paused his game to participate/revel in the chaos, grinned as L clasped his young hands in L's own spidery fingers.

The albino hadn't moved or shown any sign of distress during the entire debacle but L slowly twirled two fingers through his snowy curls anyway.

L paused before approaching Mello, whose eyes shone with furiously repressed tears. The boy finally grabbed his idol in a crushing embrace, burying his face into L's chest.

Dark-rimmed eyes blinked gently and L's arms wrapped around Mello's form.

"Mello, your actions were entirely inappropriate and as L's successor your conclusions about my husband are unfounded and illogical. However," L moved his hands in slow concentric circles on Mello's back when the boy tried to disguise his sob as a hiccup, "my actions have been flawed as well. I haven't been able to explain to any of you my decision and have not returned to the orphanage for over a year. You are waiting over my pending decision of the next L; this is an emotionally compromising time, and at your age . . . I can understand why you--all of you--reacted as you have. I assure you, in due time I shall return--with Kira's head. That, I promise. You can hold me to this, Mello."

Mello looked up. "You can fucking bet I will."

"Watch your mouth."

He grinned cheekily. "Can't. My nose gets in the way."

L shook his head ruefully as they parted. Watari, having almost recuperated from his panic attack at the mess, was directing cleaners and maids and participating in cleaning up (even though he was a wedding guest. A born diplomat, that man.)

Light's relatives just gaped. Astoundedly.

He supposed L did take some getting used to.

Nobody really felt like attempting to finish dinner so the party moved on to the beautifully frosted wedding cake.

Sachiko and Watari had worked for hours on the staggeringly large pastry (and developed a rather close bond through it by sharing embarrassing stories of the soon-to-be-grooms as small children. Light shuddered at the memory of his horrible baby photos). Pink frosting formed apples and rosettes along the rim and a replica of the two grooms was provided by one of the orphans--the albino with the finger puppets, Light guessed.

L and Light acted out the cliched shoving-of-cake into the other's face. L also performed the not-so-cliched act of licking the cake _off_ of Light's face which disgusted and tickled him simultaneously.

Some guests returned to the dance floor while others sat and talked at the tables. L had turned the eating of his cake into an intricate art worth of professional commission so Light, chained to him as he was, decided to make the best of the predicament by continuing the unfinished sweet-consumption-dance they'd started before.

Picking at his untouched slice of cake and placing a bite gently between his teeth, Light leaned towards his husband, eager for his sweeter-than-cake taste.

"Not now, Light." L stated impassively, not even looking up from his plate. "I'm eating."

Light resisted the absurd urge to pout. "But . . . "

"Cake," L explained. "Talk to Mello if you're bored," he provided, once again displaying his complete lack of social nuances for the world to see.

Light crossed his arms, not deigning to even consider doing what would probably get his head ripped off.

Literally.

The evening faded into nighttime with a spectacular view of the sunset through the multifaceted rainbow-tinted windows, golden light cast into hundreds of tiny droplets raining down onto the dance floor. In pairs or singly Light's guests dispersed. The task force members, Misa, and Sayu who had somehow ended up with them, congratulated them one last time before moseying off to the nearest bar to inebriate themselves and make bawdy jokes.

The orphans remained, shepherded by Watari and another old man--Roger, L had called him--onto the dance floor where they sat obediently, waiting.

L soon slouched to the head of the throng, Light cluelessly trailing behind him.

He stood with hands crammed into the pockets of his dress, cutting quite a ridiculous figure because of the sharp contrast between his attire and the serious expression on his face.

"I used to think," he started, children hanging avidly on every word, "that the title of L precluded any romantic involvement.

"No, it started before gaining my position. As soon as I realized how very unintelligent the rest of the world, is; how superficial, petty, and shallow compared to my own intellect; that is when I came to believe I would never find somebody else, never feel love or lust, both of which I viewed as weaknesses.

"You, as my successors, understand how difficult it is to find others you can connect with, to find somebody exactly on your level. Even among you all, the most intelligent children on the earth, there are precious few real connections or bonds, forged in friendship or otherwise. I am sure almost all of you are still under the same impression I was: that for those of us with a higher intelligence and purpose, there is no possibility of romance.

"Today should prove this incorrect.

"Knowing Light has liberated me, proved to me there are exceptional people on everyone's level in the world. All one has to do is look for them.

"This is my lesson for you today, children. Even as L; _even _with the burden of this title on my shoulders that one day I will thrust on one of you, my life is not limited to him, the detective behind the computer screen. _I_ can love, _I_ can feel. It is essential for you to understand this, children, because life without love is a horrible, lonely, and dark experience. We all need some, excuse me, _Light_ in our lives." He drew his arm around Light's shoulders. "This is mine."

Light felt like crying, laughing, and kissing his husband all at once, so of course he did.

He noticed, vaguely (amidst the passionate kissing, and groping and "battling" that came with the package) that Mello looked . . . how could he explain it? Reverently relieved, to put inadequate words to his expression (he hadn't put his mask back on with the rationalization that, if the second Kira was among them, he, Mello, already had a death sentence draped about his shoulders. He hadn't seemed too worried about the prospect, funnily enough, as if his life didn't matter to him as long as it narrowed down the list of Kira suspects. Light wondered about that kid.)

Apparently a thumbs-up from L was all he needed to leap up, cross the floor, grab Matt by his shoulders, tear off his mask, and crush their lips together.

Light worried, vaguely, about what exactly was in that fruit punch.

He didn't really care.

Their honeymoon would start tomorrow and he planned to make exemplary use of the week.

--

****FFNet is SO going to delete that...It's random letters (I slammed my head into my keyboard to see the result, which was wholly unsatisfying--some h's/j's, but mostly a lot of u's)**

**And here we have it. Issha quite lengthy...worth reading? Please tell me if I should sit in the corner and never turn on my computer again...:(  
Should I do an epilogue of the honeymoon ("Try as he might, employ his stunning imagination for all it was worth, Light hadn't been able to picture L in the Bahamas.")? It wouldn't be _nearly_ as long as this and just...well, what do wedding couples normally do on honeymoons (answer: each other)? ;)**


End file.
